


show a little mercy

by suspendrs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Break Up, Break up sex, Happy Ending, M/M, Makeup Sex, Making Up, idrk, mentions of fighting, or - Freeform, so uh, this is basically just all my lyg feelings smushed into one little drabble sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 11:24:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5826811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendrs/pseuds/suspendrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Louis hates him so, so much. But then again, he’s never loved someone quite so fiercely.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Or, Louis and Harry try to break up. (Or, a drabble based on Love You Goodbye)</p>
            </blockquote>





	show a little mercy

**Author's Note:**

> i'm really sorry in advance this is unbeta'd and probably poorly written i'm just really sorry

It doesn’t start hurting until he’s at the door. Leaving his mum’s had been fine, the drive had been a bit rough, but now, standing at his own- well, at Harry’s front door, there’s this dull throb in his chest that knocking only intensifies.

Harry doesn’t know he’s coming. When Louis told him he’d be by at some point this week to collect his shit, Harry had only sniffled and turned over in bed. It probably wasn’t the best way to end their relationship, definitely didn’t ease any of the pain they’d both been causing each other but, well. Shit happens.

He knocks again after a moment, and Harry answers before his fist can collide with the wood even twice. Louis freezes and lowers his fist, staring fixedly over Harry’s shoulder, waiting for him to make the first move. Louis is a lot of things, and a coward might be one of them.

“Louis,” Harry croaks, his big, stupid body still blocking the doorway. Louis forces himself to look at him, swallowing the aching lump in his throat.

Harry has his hair pulled back, a light sheen of sweat making his forehead sparkle. He’s not wearing a shirt, clad in just a tight pair of shorts which appear to be lycra, or something equally as clingy and tempting. Louis forces himself to hold Harry’s eye contact, because Harry has never been afraid of eye contact and Louis refuses to feel inferior to him right now.

“Are you busy?” He says, his tone flat, bored sounding. Harry doesn’t even flinch, just continues staring at his eyes. Louis feels like there’s a fissure in his chest, threatening to spread and shatter him.

“Um,” Harry blurts out, glancing behind himself. Louis hates him. “I’m just- uh, yoga,” he manages. He’s caught off guard, Louis can tell, and if he were a better man, he’d feel bad.

“I just came to,” Louis gestures vaguely, “you know. My stuff.”

They’ve talked for hours on end before, have had long, eloquent conversations about the moon, about their lives, about their future. Louis has listened to Harry talk from sunset till sunrise and Harry has done the same, and some of the talks they’ve had have been life changing. This obviously isn’t one of those talks.

“Right,” Harry breathes. Finally he’s the one to break the eye contact, looking down at Louis’s feet while he steps back and opens the door a bit wider in invitation. Louis steps in past him and glances around, not allowing himself to get sentimental now. He doesn’t live here anymore, and that’s why he’s here now.

Harry’s light blue yoga mat is spread out on the carpet in the living room, his dumb yoga tape paused on the tv. The way the instructor is folded up looks almost painful; no wonder Harry took so long to get to the door.

Louis shuffles off into the next room and waits until he hears the tape start to play, and then releases a long breath. The kitchen looks exactly the same as it did the last time Louis was here, a few days ago. There’s a dirty glass on the table that Louis knows for sure he had his orange juice in the day he left, and there’s a chipped plate on the countertop that Louis had dropped with his shaking hands when Harry finally suggested that he move out. It makes the ache in his chest intensify even more and he looks away, drawing in another deep breath while he looks around for anything that belongs specifically to him. 

He picks up his snapback from the counter where they keep all their miscellaneous items, and then a small pile of mail that belongs to him. He carries the items with him while he sets off up the stairs, heading for the bedroom. There are folded up boxes in the back of the closet still from when they moved in a few years ago, and Louis takes one to collect everything in. He tosses in his hat and mail unceremoniously and then starts pulling his clothes off of hangers, dropping them in on top of everything else. He takes one of Harry’s old t-shirts just because; he’s not really sure why, but it feels like he needs it. 

Once he’s cleaned out what’s his from the bathroom and his bedside table, he meanders down the hall to the office space they shared. Harry’s desk is neatly piled with notebooks and scrap papers that he scribbles lyrics onto, while Louis’s desk is just overflowing with shit that he knows he’ll never actually use. He sweeps it all into the box anyway, vows to look it over when he has time. He takes some of the little framed pictures around the room as well: a picture of him and his siblings, him and his mum, one of him and Harry from Leeds all those years ago. He should leave that one, just to prove a point, but somehow he thinks leaving it will hurt more than keeping it forever.

He does a few laps around the house to make sure he has everything, and then finally finds himself in the living room again. Harry isn’t doing yoga, more just sitting in the center of the mat with his long legs splayed in front of him, staring into space while the tape plays to no audience.

Louis clears his throat from the doorway and Harry’s eyes flick up, looking him over. Louis hugs the box to his chest and gives in to the urge to look down, standing stock still while Harry stands up.

“You’re done?” Harry asks, voice quiet and careful not to show too much of what he’s thinking.

“I’m done,” Louis confirms, in just the same tone, eyes glued to the floor.

“You’re off, then? For good this time?” Harry sounds, well. He sounds scared of the idea. Louis feels that stupid ache in his chest again.

“I’m off,” he breathes. “For good this time.”

Harry nods and looks down too, Louis can see in his periphery. Louis turns away slowly and Harry follows him to the door, putting one hand on the handle like he’s going to let him out. 

“This is it, then,” Harry says. Louis feels that fissure again, and it’s spreading rapidly. He’s just waiting for the pieces to hit the floor.

“We can be friends,” he tries, but his voice breaks a little, and Harry flinches like he almost has the nerve to reach out and comfort him, or something.

“I don’t know,” Harry mutters. Leave it to him to always be fucking practical, never let Louis have anything. Leave it to him to break Louis’s heart even more.

Louis nods slowly and hugs the box a little tighter, glancing at Harry’s hand on the doorknob. Harry’s grip tightens and then Louis feels a gentle touch to his cheek, and when he looks up Harry’s eyes are glistening.

They picked out this house because of all the natural light it got at all hours of the day, the copious amounts of windows letting in enough light that they wouldn’t need to use any lamps until the evening. That stupid natural light is reflecting on Harry’s eyes now, shining in the little beads of tears.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispers, his bottom lip trembling. Louis has sucked on that lip, bitten it so hard it’s bled, and soothed it over with his tongue so many times he knows it as well as he knows his own lip.

“Me neither,” he whispers in return. Now that he’s looking at Harry’s eyes he can’t look away, captivated as always by how absolutely gorgeous this boy is. He can’t believe he’s about to walk right out of his life.

Well, it’s not really like that, and they both know that. They’re in the same band, they’ll see each other at some point. They’re on a break, though, and they will be for a year, a whole year, and the promise of that seems almost like a burden right now.

Harry removes his hand from Louis’s cheek and takes the box from his hands, setting it down in one smooth movement. Louis stands awkwardly, hands empty and hanging uselessly by his sides. Harry steps forward and for a moment it’s so, so intense, and when Harry sniffles Louis can see right up his stupid nose.

Louis hates him so, so much. But then again, he’s never loved someone quite so fiercely. 

Louis had this English teacher back in school that was an absolute nutter. They spent close to a week on one stupid sonnet, and at the time it had felt pointless, but right now, with his lips barely an inch from Harry’s, it’s all he can think about. There was some crazy thing about the punctuation at the end of the poem that Louis never quite understood, something about the placement of the comma that embodied the poem entirely. It was something about a breath, just one single breath, the time it takes to pronounce a comma when reading aloud, that separates life from death. There’s life, and there’s that one last, final, deciding breath, and then there’s death. Louis isn’t sure if he’s life or death, or which of the two that Harry is, but there’s a comma hanging somewhere between them now, begging to be read, begging to have the last say.

He can’t remember how the sonnet went, something about how death doesn’t decide who it takes. Louis thinks maybe they’re both death, and maybe together they're life, and they don’t get to decide how this ends. He hesitates and Harry does too, at the same time, and there’s second when they lock eyes and then they’re kissing, lips against lips for the first time in weeks.

Harry’s hands find his hips and Louis grasps at his shoulders, bodies moulding together seamlessly. This has to be fate, they don’t get to choose this. Death doesn’t get to choose it’s victim, and Louis didn’t get to choose Harry, and doesn’t get to choose to lose him now.

They kiss until they’re breathless, until there’s nothing separating life from death and light from dark and up from down and Louis from Harry. They kiss until they can’t, and then they pull away, and suddenly the energy is frantic.

“Please,” Harry is murmuring, words pressed into the side of Louis’s neck. “One last time. Please let me just-”

“Yeah,” Louis sighs, tipping his head back. “One last time.”

Harry’s hands slide over Louis’s hips and down, under his bum. Louis expects a firm grope but squeals when he’s lifted instead, wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist. Harry gets them to the couch and lays them down without breaking their bodies apart, only nearly slipping over once. 

Louis reaches up to get Harry’s hair out of the ponytail holder, flinging the elastic band across the room and getting a good grip in Harry’s slightly sweaty hair. He tugs him down to kiss him again, memorizing the taste of him once again while Harry slips his hands up under Louis’s shirt. Harry indulges him for a moment and then breaks the kiss, pulling away just far enough to get Louis’s shirt off over his head.

Harry catches his eye as he’s dropping his shirt to the floor, and they both freeze. Louis can feel the fissures in his body threatening to split again, because Harry look unsure suddenly and Louis doesn’t think he’ll be able to deal with being sent away at this point.

The fissures don’t have time to split before Harry is slamming their lips together again, rocking his hips down firmly against Louis’s. He’s being rougher than he normally would, but somehow this is easier, because if it hurts a bit Louis will be able to focus on the physical pain for a while instead of the emotional one.

He slides a hand down Harry’s spine and dips it into the back of his tight little shorts, giving his perky little arse a good squeeze. Harry reaches down and pops the button on his jeans, feeling the outline of his half hard dick through his pants.

They go at it like that until Louis is hard and whimpering, and Harry pulls away without a word. He stumbles off the couch and pushes his hair out of his face, looking down at Louis with actual pain in his eyes. Louis thinks for a moment that Harry is going to ask to stop, but then Harry bites his lip.

“Bed?”

Louis sighs in relief and scrambles up off the couch, following Harry up the stairs and into the bedroom. Harry kisses him again once the door is closed, dragging him across the room and forcing him down onto the mattress with his own body. Louis has a sneaking suspicion that Harry is only kissing him so much to avoid him, in a twisted sort of way, but he doesn’t mind. He kind of appreciates it, actually, because if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, who knows what it’d be saying.

Louis makes the next move, kicking off his jeans and boxers and tugging Harry’s shorts off as well. It’s quick and dirty from there, with lube produced from who knows where and three fingers in his arse before he’s even ready for one.

When Harry finally sinks into him, it’s like every night they’ve ever had comes flooding right back to him. Harry gives him just barely enough time to relax and then draws his hips out slowly, only to slam them back in. His pace is relentless right off the bat, with a kind of desperation Louis has never experienced in this bed. 

Harry has Louis’s back arching within moments, has him nearly screaming, if it weren’t for the lips still covering his own. Louis thinks he might be crying, but he thinks Harry might be, as well, and he thinks life and death might be the same thing after all.

Harry gets a hand around Louis’s cock, and then it’s all over. Louis lasts a total of ten seconds before he’s tensing up and coming, head spinning with the force of it. It might be the power of Harry’s body, or the lack of oxygen, or the overwhelming emotion, but Louis nearly passes out right then and there.

Harry doesn’t follow too far behind, coming just as hard into the condom Louis doesn’t remember him grabbing. They don’t usually use condoms, or, they didn’t, but Louis knows that Harry opts for one when he knows he won’t feel like cleaning up after. 

Harry takes a few minutes to pull out, and when he finally does, Louis takes the chance to roll onto his side and try to catch his breath. Harry tosses the condom and then lays down beside him on his back.

They pant wordlessly for a few moments, eyes closed and bodies tired. When Louis finally opens his eyes he startles at the sight of Harry staring at him, eyes full of tears again.

“Is this goodbye?” Harry whispers, his lip trembling just like before.

Louis sniffles, pressing his own lips together. He doesn’t answer, because he thinks they both know.

“Don’t leave,” Harry finally sobs, squeezing his eyes shut. Louis’s heart stutters in his chest because, shit, that’s not what he was expecting. He really thought this was it, was going to get up and leave and try his damnedest not to look back. But if Harry doesn’t want that, shit, neither does he. “Please stay.”

Louis draws in a shaky breath, waiting for Harry to look at him again. “Are you sure?”

Harry nods quickly, so forcefully it must put a crick in his neck. “Don’t leave. Please don’t leave me.”

Louis feels a tear slip out of his eye, rolling across the bridge of his nose and down his other cheek. He sniffles again and nods slightly, eyes locked on Harry’s.

“Okay.”

Harry’s breath catches and he stares at Louis for a second, like his mind is moving too fast for him to keep up. Louis fears for a split second that Harry is going to say he didn’t mean in, but then there are lips on his again and they’re so, so gentle this time, Louis knows this is for real.

“I love you. I’m sorry for everything,” Harry whimpers when he pulls away, looking up at Louis with wet cheeks and eyelashes. He looks sixteen again, with big doe eyes and pouty lips and Louis loves him _so much_. 

“I should be the one apologizing,” he murmurs, reaching out to swipe his thumb under Harry’s eye, brushing away a tear. “I love you, and I’m sorry I let you convince me to move out.” He slides his hand into Harry’s hair and Harry nuzzles in his palm, eyes falling closed.

“We’re both to blame,” Harry mutters, words getting sloppy the way they always do when Louis scratches at his scalp like this.

They're quiet for a few moments, lost in their heads and in their hearts. Harry's long fingers wrap slowly around Louis's thin wrist, and he holds him like that, like if he lets go Louis might disappear again.

“I should call me mum,” Louis says finally, smoothing his thumb over Harry’s sweaty temple. “Tell her I’m not coming back. She’ll be thrilled to have me out of her hair,” he chuckles, grinning when Harry opens his eyes.

“That’s not true,” Harry argues, but he’s smiling too. “No one would ever be happy to lose you.”

“You’re disgusting,” Louis sighs, but the smile etched onto his face says otherwise. He feels like he hasn’t smiled in days, knows he hasn’t. Harry’s smile turns fond like it does when he knows Louis is genuinely happy, and it’s disgusting, but they both are.

“Go on, then, call your mum. I’m gonna jump in the shower, join me when you’re done?” Harry asks hopefully, tilting his head to press a gentle kiss to the soft skin on the inside of Louis’s wrist.

“Course,” Louis confirms, watching as Harry removes himself from the bed and pads over to the bathroom. He rolls onto his back once the door is closed, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment. There’s a box downstairs that he'll have to unpack at some point, and he's not even sure that he brought his phone with him here. He can hear Harry singing softly in the bathroom, though, and the mattress under him has the imprint of his body unlike his cold box spring in his childhood bed that he’s been sleeping in. Most importantly, Harry is his again, so really, there’s nothing wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> the sonnet referenced is [Death Be Not Proud](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173363) by John Donne if anyone was wondering
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> if you liked the fic, you can reblog it [here](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/post/142318515737/fukcinglouis-show-a-little-mercy-by-suspendrs), or you can [buy me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/alyvia) :)
> 
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> 
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